


When The Heart Rules The Head.

by palegingerade



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, Flirting, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palegingerade/pseuds/palegingerade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored - as usual, without a case. John is enjoying the fact that he hasn't been blown up, shot at, or almost burnt alive in a bonfire for quite some time, and he's glad of some much needed rest. But all of those things would be fine, not a problem, so long as Sherlock wasn't bored with him. Because that would never do!</p><p><em> Dammit, John. You need to get a life!</em> He warns himself, never imagining for a second that he would ever wake up with someone else's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Heart Rules The Head.

**Author's Note:**

> I've changed the title of this fic. I wasn't sure what to call it when I first started and my original title had already been used for another fic when I googled it. A Case Of Identity is one of my fave ACD stories but I feel this fits better for what I have planned here. Apologies for any confusion. Thanks for reading :)

The first time it happened, John pretended not to notice, he simply slouched back in his chair. It wasn't until the fifth blast of cool air hit the back of his neck (not that he was counting) and a sliver of billowing silk slapped him square in the face that he frowned at his laptop screen and quietly cleared his throat. 

Sherlock had been pacing around the living room in his dressing gown for the last couple of minutes, now with so much momentum that John wasn't sure what was going to wear out first: the long pile of carpet underneath his bare feet or his own already fraying temper. He shuffled his laptop on his knee and continued pecking at the keys with one finger as Sherlock made a swift spin on his heels and huffed again.

"Bored, John!"

It was louder and more theatrical than five minutes previous, and louder still than the ten before that. "Hmm? Funny, you never said -" John never bothered to look up from the screen as he carried on typing but was suddenly aware of Sherlock staring at him.

"Seven days, John. SEVEN WHOLE DAYS, and nothing - NOTHING! Why can't you people be more exciting? God, it's all so dull isn't it?" Sherlock interrupted, ignoring John's sarcasm and sighing over-dramatically as John tried not to react.

"I'm sorry we're not all mass murdering psychopaths, but some of us normal human beings actually enjoy having some time off between bombs and homicides. It can get rather 'dull," yes." He glanced up, making sarcastic quotation marks with his right hand just in time to see Sherlock throw himself in his chair and the shoulder of his dressing gown slip down even further over his bare chest.

Apparently, Sherlock had also been too 'bored' to dress himself this morning, too. 

John watched him shrug himself back into it and fold his arms restlessly across his chest in a strop, once again confronted with the dreaded and trademarked, 'Sherlock sulking because he didn't have a case.' Being around Sherlock in full pouting teenage boy mode was infuriating at best, but John had to admit that this time, really, _really _deep down, he hadn't half missed it. Sadly, it appeared this sentiment was one sided.__

__"And what is it that you're planning to do with all this 'time off' exactly?'"_ _

__Sherlock's deliberate and patronising tone of voice along with his mocking exaggerated quotation marks was almost too much for John to take. He'd paid Sherlock a visit because he wanted them to have a pleasant, relaxing afternoon together, enjoying each others company, and, hopefully, for a bit of rare peace and quiet. He'd been looking forward to it all day - especially after another tense and silent breakfast with Mary. Bickering with her last night before bed, like he always seemed to lately, was beginning to gnaw away at his usual patient bed-side manner. He knew he needed to keep a cool head more than ever to deal with Sherlock this antsy, so decided to shelve his temper for now. "I'm typing up the last few case notes for the blog, since I've been so busy lately with, oh I dunno: being almost burnt in a bonfire, having my former commanding officer nearly die at my own wedding, finding out the woman I married is - " his voice faded for a second. He still couldn't find the words to describe what Mary had done to them, and couldn't bear to think of Sherlock lying still, pale and lifeless in that hospital bed - the image of the bandaged and bloody gunshot wound would probably stay with him forever. He coughed dryly and swallowed. All of that was over now. Sherlock was safe and he was home. "And don't even get me started on Christmas! What a 'holiday' that was." John managed a weak smile. "Incidentally, I could just leave and go home to my own house and be with my wife, who doesn't feel the need to scream how bored she is when she's in my company."_ _

__"No. I would say that was more your job." Sherlock spat, throwing his legs over the arm of his chair and crossing his arms in defiance._ _

__John glanced up at Sherlock - who now looked like a sulking five year old child. John stifled his smile. "Be nice!" He warned through a bitten down grin that perfectly matched Sherlock's when their eyes met._ _

__"Ah, sorry." Sherlock softened, "I need a distraction, that's all."_ _

__John watched Sherlock's tense shoulders relax and he pulled his laptop onto the chair arm. "Tea?" He offered, standing and making his way to the kitchen, not retaliating to Sherlock's still-sulking grumble._ _

__"If I can possibly contain the excitement?!"_ _

__Sherlock sighed out loud as John busied himself in the kitchen. He'd missed these last few months more than he'd care to admit: the thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through his veins, just the two of them against the rest of the world, - but he had also, alarmingly, missed this: the closeness, the domesticity of everyday life, the constant bickering like an old married couple.  
Being with John was anything but boring to Sherlock. _ _

__"Well, hold on to your deerstalker!" John yelled, filling the kettle and taking two teabags out of the box, plonking one in each mug, "I was going to ask if you wanted to do something really exciting tonight and go out for dinner, Mary's not home again. Angelos? If that's thrilling enough for you, your highness?" He said, his teasing grin widening full beam._ _

__"Well, normally I would jump at the chance, John. But I have to go to The Yard first." Sherlock said, picking up his phone to check the time, "I promised Lestrade I'd check in from time to time. It's been ages since..."_ _

__"No you didn't. "_ _

__"I'm sorry?"_ _

__"No you didn't. You're just bored. And when do you ever do anything Lestrade asks?" Sherlock glanced at the back of John's head as he spoke and saw him reaching in the cupboard above his head with one hand, at the same time opening a drawer with the other in search of a teaspoon, "you're just desperately trying to look busy because you find it so hard to relax. You can't fool me."_ _

__It was true; John was quite right as usual and saw straight through his temper tantrum, but the way he clattered around in the kitchen, drawers opening and closing, kettle whistling away on the stove, was strangely a comfort. Despite the sadness Sherlock felt - the still raw disappointment swirling around in his gut, it was almost as if John had never left._ _

__Sherlock watched as he stuffed two chocolate biscuits in his mouth and carried two mugs of tea towards him. The sight so familiar and normal, he smiled warmly. It was still very much John's kitchen._ _

__He took the mug from John's outstretched hand, not blinking as John sat down his chair with a thump and bit off a large chunk of biscuit. Staring with fascination as he licked a blob of chocolate from his thumb, Sherlock glanced away and took a long sip of tea. It was strong, sweet, just right, _perfect.._ \- and he took another eager mouthful immediately, feeling the burn of it scald his tongue and heat up his insides. He had no idea how much he'd wanted it until it was right there in front of him. John always knew what he wanted - what he needed, long before he did. "Mary's got a better social life than you these days. Mind you, that's not exactly difficult." He said, changing the subject intently as John licked his dry lips wet. __

__"I know. She's never home. Some book group or something tonight. Apparently one hour a week isn't enough of Jane Austen? I dunno."_ _

__"Hmm, I should think not." Sherlock said, watching, smiling as John gulped back his tea. The way John ate and drank was extraordinary, Sherlock thought, he gulped, glugged, consumed, frequently bit off more than he could chew._ _

__(Secretly) watching John eat when he was starving was one of Sherlock's favourite things. Not unlike John it was messy, unapologetic, and totally unselfconscious. It almost gave Sherlock proof that John was completely comfortable in his presence. Like being with him like this; watching him rub crumbs off his chin with the back of his rough hands, was routine after everything they'd been through._ _

__They were still them - still the same Sherlock and John - even after all this time._ _

__Sherlock huffed almost inaudibley.  Despite his pacing, stomping, childlike moaning and complaining that almost everyone he'd ever met couldn't abide, John was still here with him, and Sherlock would never be bored._ _

__Yet watching as he devoured biscuits like this surely shouldn't be _this_ entertaining?!_ _

__"So, shall we say five o'clock?" He said as John's eyes moved from the laptop back to his._ _

__"What for?"_ _

__"Scotland Yard -" before he'd even finished the two words, John was grinning wildly at him._ _

__"You want me to come with you?"_ _

__"Of course, John!" He said obviously, "it'll be good for you to get out of the house, stretch your legs.."_ _

__"I'm not a bloody dog!" John said, knowing Sherlock was holding in his smile. "Do you just live for winding me up these days? I hope Lestrade _has_ got something for you.."_ _

__"- for us."_ _

__"Yeah, um, for _us._ Coz you're bloody unbearable like this!" He didn't know if he was joking or serious this time, but Sherlock continued to grin. He watched him wrap his dressing gown around his waist and fasten the cord securely. _ _

__"Shall we say five then? We can go to that All-you-can-eat Chinese place you like on the way back."_ _

__"I thought you said you weren't hungry?"_ _

__"I'm not. You are though. Mary isn't quite the domestic goddess you hoped for is she? Or should I say didn't ho - "_ _

__"Yes, alright, leave it! Five o'clock is fine with me."_ _

__With that, Sherlock swiftly leapt out of his chair and John watched him leave, still wearing half a grin and rolling his eyes with exasperation._ _

__Damn Sherlock!_ _

__He was glad the usual banter between them was still there, if anything there was more of it, and nothing had changed really since the very beginning, except maybe for a few new things. He obviously wasn't as young as he was back then, he had slightly more grey hair, had a wife that preferred doing most things without him - and he honestly didn't mind that. True, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been out with Mike for a pint, or seen any of the lads from his army days, if he was still young enough to call them 'The Lads?'_ _

__But had he really become that _boring?__ _

__Was Sherlock bored with him, too?!_ _

__John knew Sherlock got bored with most things eventually. But the thought of Sherlock being bored with him was strangely unacceptable!_ _

__He and Mary rarely spent the evenings together. He would much rather spend his time here, at Baker Street with Sherlock, researching a case, watching films, eating dinner, cooking dinner, making sure Sherlock _ate_ dinner! _ _

__Sherlock had lost far too much weight in his absence, John thought, settling the laptop down and finishing his tea. And although he'd made sure he had gained a few pounds lately, medically he was still twelve and a half underweight._ _

___Dammit John,_ he frowned to himself, _you really do need to get a life! _____


End file.
